Pursuing Saffron: Prayer Update

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

LOOK ME
A colorful scarf has been wrapped around the head and shoulders of this individual, partially obscuring their face from view in an attempt at being discreet. They are a fiendish viscanti starlit demigod changeling. They stand at graceful six-foot even, their limbs slender and their slim figure bordering on feminine in its slight curvature. Dark, violet-gray skin covers the entirety of their form, possessing a faint iridescent sheen when standing in the right light. A hint of discolored flesh can be seen at the center of their sternum, mostly obscured by their clothing. Their long face is pointed and slender, nose long and pointed, the fainted hint of pitch freckles marking their cheeks and nose. A moderately sized crescent-shaped scar mars their right cheek. A pair of sleepy almond-shaped eyes house hazy gray sclera but strikingly orange pupils, each eye like a pinpoint of fire against their dark face. Rising sharply from either side of their head are two pairs of dark gray horns, the wickedly sharp ridged lengths curving back as if they've been windswept. Both horns on the left side look to have been broken off crudely, their full shape lost. A mop of short iridescent blue-black hair graces the top of their head, framing their horns and face, and a shock of bone white has grown in along their temple. Trailing behind and twitching with a mind of its own is a slender gray tail, which tapers at its end into a flat, notched fin. A scarlet hieroglyph rests in the centre of their forehead, flickering with occasional tongues of lightning to show the truefavour of Mysrai, the Shofet of Abyssal Scales.
They are wearing:
a starry wreath of celestial light set atop their head like a halo
a circlet of crystal thorns resting loosely atop their head
a vivid red-orange poppy tucked lovingly behind their left ear
an indigo scarf dotted with lambent fireflies wrapped about the top and back of their head, lending them a partially hooded visage
the Mantle of Starlight which flows dreamily about their shoulders and back
a sunny tiger lily brooch pinned carefully to their scarf
a vibrant vermilion shirt which has been perfectly tailored for them
a well-worn apron covered in colorful pockets tied tightly behind their back
a hypnotic paisley saddlebag slung casually over their shoulder
mercurial Mysraian prayer beads pulled taut against their right wrist
a Glomdoring friendship bracelet which jingles softly on their left wrist
minty citrus incense beads pulled taut against their right wrist
a shifting, living poppy of azure petals worn delicately upon their left wrist
a driftwood ring of sea breezes fitted tightly to their left middle finger
rugged tan adventuring trousers which fit their form flatteringly
Refined Boots of the Paladin, worn and weathered from use.

You glance askance at Bizirik, the leothin.
Perking up, Bizirik, the leothin begins to chitter and thrum, its tail sweeping back and forth across the ground. It cranes its neck to gently headbutt your side contentedly.

Bizirik, the leothin chirps happily.

With a whisper of energies and a glimpse of changing paradigms, the veil parts, allowing you passage beyond.
The Fulcrux of Mysrai.
The walls of this rounded chamber are dimly illuminated by burning coals within a copper bowl at the centre, but remain no more distinct than any of the shadowy carvings upon their surface. At times, the walls seem as though they are mere veils between open air and the fire-illumined ring: at others, they are whirling sand or solid stone. Despite this, figures in various races shift and change, gone in seconds or less, with the only constant remaining the pinpricks of alien constellations within. The ceiling is a canopy of silk, or veils, or shifting realities, with loose poppy blossoms floating amidst it, or upon it, in tears of white and red and indigo. Oilslick patterns ripple across the silken folds of this veil as it flutters between two paradigms. Veils of reality bounded by skeins of ivory and blood-hued blossoms twist and shiver above a poppy-inlaid vessel filled with burning coals.
You see a single exit leading through a fluttering veil.

You have emoted: Gurashi lifts their veiled gaze to look about the Fulcrux, slowly reaching a clawed finger up to grasp at the edge of their scarf, pulling it down to their chin. "Ouwah..." They whisper, tail lashing behind them, rising like a serpent. They at last look forward, unwrapping their scarf fully from around their head and letting it settle around their shoulders. "Most Beloved..."

You turn to the master shrine of Mysrai, suddenly bending at the waist to offer a polite half-bow.

Sinking to their knees before the shrine, you say, "Good morning, Most Beloved Thousandfolds." They raise their head slowly, staring at the shrine before them with an uncharacteristic calmness, folding their hands in their lap. "Is me - Gurashi, yes. Hello...!"

<-- immediately gets tells lol

You think to yourself: *their heart beats in their chest, thoroughly-rehearsed words flying out of their head and pinging around their skull - please, concentrate, yes*.

You have emoted: Gurashi wrinkles their nose, gaze flicking aside towards the Veiled entrance. "Peoples love talking to me right when decide to come do important businesses. Right." They clear their throat and look forward again, focusing on the shrine. "Uhm...wanted to ask how You were doing, yes. Have noticed, have felt Your Shapes is differently, lately. Is everything O-K? Did something happen?" They lean forward, their burning gaze momentarily brighter as they study the master shrine of Mysrai. "Can do anything, to help You? Maybe..."

You have emoted: Gurashi fidgets, their tail sweeping behind them coiling and bobbing in a serpentine fashion. "In truths, wanted to... pray to check in. Checking in! That is what I am doing, yes. Seeing if can serve You goodly, and letting You know, what am up to. I do not think to do it that muchly." They pause. "I decided on a next task, with Beloved Tonatiuh's help."

You think to yourself: *beneath a myriad of hopeful colors and the nerves of delivering the prayer - an undercurrent of guilt, of wasting Their time, Their precious energy and thought*.

You have emoted: Gurashi's pointed nails scrape at the edges of their nailbeds, picking at the skin there. "I, Gurashi... am going to try to write, a /book/. About /You/." They look up at the edge of the bowl, biting the tip of their forked tongue. "If, that is O-K...?"

You think to yourself: *a ripple of thrilled anxiety, the thought of people reading the book, seeing the way they see Them, the way they could show the Empyreal how goodly They were*.

Their voice vibrating with the most subtle of purrs, you say, "Once, Beloved Leta wrote a book that spoke of Your Shapes, what They may have meants, how to approach, what looked like... it only, has a couple, though. And, You have MANY wonderful shapes that I have seen Most Beloved."

You have emoted: Gurashi shifts in their spot, adjusting their sore knees. "It is most certainly a shames that there are some Beloved who have not gotten to see all of Your latest of Shapes. The Resin Childs," They inhale deeply upon mentioning the Aspect, tail lashing happily behind them, forming a lopsided heart. "I want to attempt to paint the Shapes in goodly words positively, for peoples to read! So peoples will know how feel about You! And maybe become inspired like /I/ have been, yes. And then will want to get to know You better too..."

You think to yourself: *a single strand of saffron thread drifts into the forefront of their mind - settles there, pleasant, hopeful*.

You have emoted: Gurashi's lip twitches, and they inhale, staring intently at the shrine before them. "Decided this, because... I /want/ to pursue Saffrons, still. You gave me so muchly hope, and feel it still," They grimace as they speak, hands balling into fists, "Know that dearest Beloved Zeebin and Beloved Alary have been traveling together for some times. Do not know, when they will come back so can finish /teaching/ Beloved Tonatiuh and me about Saffrons, either."

You have emoted: Gurashi runs a claw over the back of their hand, touching the faintest of scars left on their knuckles from an age long gone. "Beloved Tonatiuh said, it will be more difficult, but not impossibles to reach such a goal..."

Voice rising half an octave, you ask, "Do You still wish it to be possible, Most Beloved?"

You have emoted: Gurashi's tail ceases its bobbing, loops around to wrap around their waist like an arm, a comforting gesture, squeezing. "I will only continue to pursue, to be better for it, but only if does not make You unhappy. Or if think would represent You poorly...or..."

You think to yourself: *again, the guiltier guilt wells up again, and a montage of faces pass before their mind's eye, there for a moment, then gone, gone*.

You have emoted: Gurashi opens their mouth, starting to say more, but trailing off instead, left gaping quietly like a fish. "...still, have a long way to go, before get there," They confess at last. "Before can be good enough for it... are still a lot of things, that struggle with. That make me a bad student. That make me feel, like I have learned /nothing/."

You have emoted: Gurashi's fiery gaze glazes over with tears, and they inhale slowly through their nose, the tail wrapped around their waist squeezing again before going limp. As they speak, their voice is high and faint, tired, childish. "Beloved Elder Mysrai, I... I really miss my dad. Sometimes - more than anything."

You think to yourself: *a great sigh wells up inside them at this, at the confession, their internal colors muting*.

Voice still high and faint, you say, "Feels like... keep being presented... with opportunities, where can be reunited with hims. 'All that have to do, is be unenemied, and then you can rejoin the family'. But to be unenemied - wants me, to recruits peoples to live in the Glomdoring, yes. Just two." They hold up two fingers to make their point, watery gaze settling on the shrine. "Is only two."

You have emoted: Gurashi reaches up, wiping at their eyes and letting out a soft hiss through their clenched teeth. "I do not know what to say. I do not know how to do it. Was still just considering implications of it when someone /lied/ on my behalfs - someone /left/ New Celest to go to the Glomdoring, and she said that it was my doing, and, the Lady believes her, but--" They clench their hand into a fist. "Get so scared. Do not know why she would lie on my behalfs. Was her choice, yes. But also, is a /lie/." Their voice grows even more thin. "If I tell the Lady of Roses then, she might get in trouble, for lying. Or me." Their eyes widen, expression suddenly gaunt. "What if She thinks was malicious? What if thinks is me who is liar for not saying no right away? Am I a liar?"

You think to yourself: *a cold voice creeps into their head, soft and whispering, bringing darkness to the existing but muted hues in their head: "May your desires rot a hole in your heart"*.

You have emoted: Gurashi sets their jaw. "I got so mad, at my dearest cousinling, Esei," They confess hoarsely, blinking back further tears. "All because they called him dad, too. It was not on purpose," They look down to their lap, reaching up to wipe at their cheek. "But, they /told/ me they did. And had to pretend was fine but it just kept eating me insides and got more and more upset. Eventually got so upset I..." They raise their arms slowly, gesturing to their viscanti shape.

You think to yourself: *the looming faeling's sympathetic gaze looking back at you, burned in your mind, burning brightly still: "I like you as you are."*.

In gentle, dulcet tones, you say, "...is why feel like am /bad/ students. Because, still want sooo muchly, to make him proud" They say at last, words spilling out messily, choked as they succumb to tears. "Know, know he wanted to keep me from joining You because he /knew/ it meant would not be able to be a family anymore. Know loved me /so/ muchly... now, because made badly choices, am like a ghost."

You think to yourself: *a painterly far-off envisioning of the Thousandfold, THIS Thousandfold, pleading with Their Other Sister and Their Other Selves and Their Other Brother - loved so much, loved so so much, the desperation setting in - can't They see? Don't They see how much...*.

You think to yourself: *now, them, standing before the looming gates of the Lady of Roses's temple, knocking desperately on the stone - Xenthos pulling them aside later, urging them to tell the truth, always wanting to help, always wanting to make right but cannot /tell/ him because he would be so /disappointed/*.

You have emoted: Gurashi swallows thickly, inhaling again through their nose, bringing up a hand to wipe the tears from their cheeks, composing themselves. "Do not want to do badly things, to earn back his love. But to earn back his love, have to earn back /Her/ love." They sag in their spot, their tail uncoiling fully from their waist to rest like a wet noodle on the ground behind them. "And I do not know that will ever be able to do that, not being a Wyrdenkin..."

In gentle, dulcet tones, you whisper, "Not without giving You ups, either..."

You have emoted: Gurashi lets out the tiniest of whimpers, shuddering at the very thought, bristling from head to toe in a singular shiver. "She isn't even in the Glomdoring, anymore, right now, Mixter Esei said ... maybe telling Her about persons who lied for me, will make Her so upset She will come right back." They attempt to joke, forcing a sharp-toothed smile that is entirely unconvincing. They reach up to cup their scarred cheek, eyes watering. "Mmf. Sorry - that was not funny..."

You think to yourself: *that deep-seeded guilt continues to roil away in their chest - how can believe if am good, if he does not think I am good*.

Bereft, you say, "I just want to be goodly, Shofets. Want to bring love and inspirations to the peoples that care about. Why cannot all understand same love languages," They croon softly, rocking side to side as they ramble on thoughtfully, "so could show him. Wish could show him how much still love him. Want him to know how muchly still care without hurting him more. Without making me do badly to proves it."

You think to yourself: *fleeting desperation, gnawing away at the back of their head: Is anyone making sure he eats? What if he gets lonely? Did a new Shrouded Eye ever get appointed to help him?*.

You have emoted: Gurashi inhales slowly again, wiping at their cheek. "Am sorry. I did not want to talk to You about this." They frown. "My dad is probably angry at You. You probably do not want to hear about it." They rise at last, standing slowly, teeteringly. "But...have talked... to so /many/ friends and peoples but... nobody ever has answers... or advices...just, there-there's and..."

Gazing across the Fulcrux and searching for the words, you say, "...do not want /pity/ just... want..."

You think to yourself: *a heartbreaking cry, again like a child's, drowning within the darkness "please - help me"...*.

You have emoted: Gurashi's tail lashes behind them, and they quickly shake their head, then look back down at their feet, then up at the master shrine of Mysrai. "...am so sorry," They blurt out suddenly, gray-violet flesh flushing an embarrassed mauve. "Is not my business to bothers You when You are already so very busy. Uhm. Mostly - just. Saffrons," They fumble, bringing out Mount Zoaka's Titanium Brazier of Explosive Transformation, holding it out. "Want to be goodly. Good choices. Good future." They warble, "for everyone."

You offer up Mount Zoaka's Titanium Brazier of Explosive Transformation to Mysrai, the Shofet of Abyssal Scales.

In gentle, dulcet tones, you say, "I /love/ You so muchly, Shofets. I loves the Beloved. I do not regret this muchly."

You cough softly.

In gentle, dulcet tones, you say, "I do not regret, know this muchly, meant."

Your eyes raise to the heavens as a look of hope flashes across your face.

You have emoted: Gurashi's tail swings to wrap around their leg, holding their ankle hostage. "Mmm...O-K," They duck their head. "I should go. I have to go talk to Beloved Sulwh 'n take care of some other stuffs but. Love You. Yes."

You turn to the master shrine of Mysrai, suddenly bending at the waist to offer a polite half-bow.

As they slowly step back, you say, "Stay goodly, and kind."

With a whisper of energies and a glimpse of changing paradigms, the veil parts, allowing you passage beyond.
A sacrosanct, smoke-filled cavern.
Muted traceries of paint outline the bas-reliefs graven into the stone of this cavern. Here, a curving woman wrapped in flamelike blossoms rises out of the rock: there, a robed man lifts his lantern. Other figures rise amidst them, in turn becoming warriors, scribes, sages and children arrayed in bewildering, interlocking patterns. Sigils and starfields fade from the skins of each figure, radiating from occlusions of crystals within the walls; shallow, broad bowls of stone rest beneath them, ringing the cavern. Smouldering coals lie within, casting what little light there is within this darkened sanctum. Oilslick patterns ripple across the silken folds of this veil as it flutters between two paradigms.
You see exits leading north, east, west, and through a fluttering veil.

A shifting, living poppy of azure petals begins to vibrate silently before its petals suddenly fold inwards. Just as suddenly the petals begin to unfurl again this time being the colour of brilliant saffron.